


Mask

by Str4y



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blood, Blood and Injury, Bottom Lee Minho | Lee Know, Deception, Horse Mask, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Light Angst, M/M, Minho is kind of a camboy again I’m sorry, Minho wears a bunny mask and hula hoops, Oral Sex, People die in this, References to Depression, Rough Sex, Smut, Top Seo Changbin, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:22:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26655097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Str4y/pseuds/Str4y
Summary: Minho hula hoops in a bunny mask for a living on the internet.  He’s content with his life and he enjoys having Changbin over to fuck.But when Changbin finds out about his extracurricular and shows up in a horse mask, things get weird.
Relationships: Lee Minho | Lee Know/Seo Changbin
Comments: 15
Kudos: 75





	Mask

**Author's Note:**

> Uhhh this was a one shot I did ages ago. It’s a quick one day fic I finally edited and hhhh I don’t know what to say about this but enjoy it! 
> 
> The summary is so bad I’m so sorry

Minho swung his hips along to the techno beat that filled his room, neon paint splashed across his body as the black light caught every stroke. He loved doing this. Once a week he’d take his hoop and dance in front of his webcam. 

  
  


And he got  _ paid _ for it. 

  
  


Minho never wanted to really do camming or be any sort of broadcasting jockey—but there he was. He was  _ anonymous _ . He always wore an oversized rabbit head to conceal his identity. And he’d paint over any identifying marks with paint that reflected on the black light he bought. 

  
  


And it was  _ great.  _ He could get paid to fucking hula hoop on camera in his underwear and they  _ ate  _ it up. He was never nude. He was never identifiable. It was perfect. 

  
  


Why not get paid to dance? Dance was all he ever really cared about anyways. His only motivation. Dancing was the only reason he was still alive. 

  
  


Minho took the hoop from his waist to twirl around his arms and neck, spinning around gracefully as he watched himself on the screen in front of him. 

  
  


People loved watching him. They for some odd reason found a mystery man hula hooping to techno every week  _ entertaining.  _

  
  


He’d talk sometimes. Not too often just in case his voice came through too clearly against the fuzzy rabbit mask concealing his true self. He’d talk about what they wanted to see. Sometimes he’d ask what they wanted to listen to. A lot of the time people asked for him to try doing it nude. But Minho wasn’t like that. Dancing in just his underwear was bad enough. And he was honestly really scared of anyone finding out who he was. And he’d dealt with at least two weirdos who tried to get his personal information before. At least if they  _ did  _ find out, all they had on him was that he danced for tips in a bunny head. No nudity gave him way less worry. 

  
  


Minho hated reading his comments during his shows. He’d get so many weirdos. Especially this one fucker who would spam how  _ perfect _ he was. It was weird. These people were so weird. But at least they tipped well. 

  
  


He ended his show after finishing one last song and waving his fingers to the screen before yanking the rabbit head from his own, brushing his sweaty hair back as he drew a breath. 

  
  


He was exhausted to say that least, and this mask trapped a lot of heat. How Minho’s face wasn’t covered in pimples and bumps was a miracle. 

  
  


Minho splashed his face with water, looking into his bathroom mirror as strands of orange hair stuck to his forehead. He enjoyed doing this. Just for the paycheck. It helped him live. It was the only thing keeping him alive. 

  
  


The only thing. 

  
  


Minho glanced to the paint across his wrist before holding it underneath the stream of water, brows furrowing as the tiny scars there uncovered. His life was different now. He wasn’t the same person he was when he was in college. Dropping out  _ saved  _ him. 

  
  


He drew a breath as he rang out his hands in the sink, flicking the water off of his fingers.  _ Saved.  _ Minho knew that staying in school would have killed him. He would never regret leaving. 

  
  


Minho collapsed onto his bed, cheek burying in the sheet as he grabbed his phone, checking his fairly empty inbox before wrapping his arms around his pillow. Dancing was tiresome. Every night after a show he’d just fall into his bed. It wasn’t terrible or anything, not having many friends. He actually preferred his quiet lifestyle. And the friends he  _ did  _ have were chill. They left him alone to do whatever he wanted without bother. And he did the same for them. 

  
  


Peaceful. It was peaceful. 

  
  


_ Buzz.  _

  
  


Minho growled into his pillow before pulling up, brushing hair behind his ear that he should probably wash soon. 

  
  


“ _ I’m coming over.” _

  
  


Minho huffed at that, turning onto his back as he held the phone to his ear, “for what?”

  
  


“ _ Wanna see you.” _

  
  


“Maybe I’m too tired,” Minho snorted, “what do you want?”

  
  


“ _ I’m lonely.” _

  
  


Minho pouted at that, knowing the person on the phone couldn’t even see it, “Changbin, you’re always lonely.”

  
  


“ _ I’ll suck you off?” _

  
  


“Oh? What if I’m not interested?”

  
  


“ _ You always are.” _

  
  


Minho clicked his tongue, “you’re right. I do like your mouth a lot. A  _ ton _ , actually.”

  
  


“ _ What if I told you I was already here?” _

  
  


Minho laughed, hanging up the phone before sliding out of his bed, shoving the hula hoop and mask into the closet as he pulled on a pair of sweatpants, raking his sweaty hair back again. 

  
  


They’d have to shower. Minho knew he probably smelled like sweat. 

  
  


He opened the door quickly, fingers trailing along his own waistband as he watched the shorter man with a hungry gaze. 

  
  


“Hey Changbin.”

  
  


_ Changbin,  _ he was kinda weird. Not a bad weird. But the kind that maybe Minho should have been more wary about. He had such a cool demeanor about him, and the way his black hair hung over his eyes really did something to Minho’s heart. He was just really unique. Really mysterious. He lacked in height but that was no problem really. It never was. 

  
  


“You look like shit.” Changbin smirked, pushing Minho inside, fingers running up his sweat-covered stomach already, “you go on a run or something?”

  
  


“CrossFit.” Minho lied, sliding his own hands up Changbin’s waist, sliding underneath the black work shirt from his restaurant shift, “we could always go shower?”

  
  


“Mmh, I was hoping you’d be gross. You always taste better that way.”

  
  


Minho threw his head back with a laugh as Changbin dragged his pants down, the man’s lips running down his stomach before reaching his cock, “you’re  _ so _ weird.”

  
  


Minho was the weird one. He knew that. 

  
  


“Ah—“ Minho was against the wall now, fingers in Changbin’s hair as the elder bobbed his head, two fingers deep inside of him while his other hand gripped onto the flesh at Minho’s ass. 

  
  


He didn’t mind fucking around with this guy, granted he couldn’t remember how they’d even started. They weren’t dating. They weren’t in any way interested in one another besides sex. So what was it?

  
  


“Turn around,” Changbin commanded as he pulled off of Minho’s cock, ramming his fingers deep as Minho’s muscles clenched in suspense. 

  
  


“You’re so impatient,” Minho laughed out, raking his hand through his hair once more as Changbin forcibly turned him, Minho planting his hands against the wall as Changbin ripped his sweatpants down to his ankles. 

  
  


“Dry, huh?”

  
  


Minho laughed at the sound of Changbin spitting into his hand, “you know how sick you are? Not even a little Vaseline for my poor ass?”

  
  


“You’re so loose,” Changbin teased back, aligning his cock to Minho’s hole, smearing precum along his rim, “you really care enough?”

  
  


Minho took a deep breath, “not really, no.”

  
  


Changbin was dangerous. But so was Minho. Having casual unprotected sex with this guy might have been a shit idea. But Changbin wasn’t fucking anyone else, Minho knew better. And it wasn’t like Minho really left his place for dick either. If he wanted to get fucked he’d just call Changbin. 

  
  


He liked their arrangement. He liked how rough this shorter man was with him, liked how he tugged his hair and slammed into him with reckless abandon. 

  
  


Maybe that’s why he didn’t chase for anyone else. Changbin’s cock was  _ too _ nice. Too good to trade for some rando’s pencil dick. Changbin had the  _ perfect  _ cock, the best thickness and length. He slid in like a key.  _ Perfectly _ . 

  
  


“Changbin!” 

  
  


Minho liked it rough. The rougher the better. The less likely he’d be able to walk the next day, _the_ _better_. He didn’t have a job besides the shit he did online. And he was a dropout. He had no responsibility. 

  
  


Changbin held his hips tight, nails digging into him as he slammed himself deep, Minho’s lips pressed against his wall as he whimpered, glad that his apartment was next to a vacant one. He could be as loud as he wanted. 

  
  


“You’re so gorgeous, Min. You’re wasting away up here.” Changbin’s lips met Minho’s neck, teeth sinking into his shoulder and neck as he continued his rough thrusts. 

  
  


Yeah, Minho wasn’t going to be walking tomorrow. 

  
  


“You taste so gross today.” Changbin whispered, bringing a hand to Minho’s hair, quickening his thrusts that had Minho crying out with every slam. 

  
  


Did it hurt? _Usually_. Was he going to stop it? _Fuck_ _no_. 

  
  


“Ch—“ Minho could feel his cum shoot against the wall, Changbin slamming him against it, stomach settling against his own cum as Changbin fucked him. 

  
  


He wasn’t sure what he’d do without this man. He’d probably be so lonely. Changbin always seemed to be there when he needed him the most. 

  
  


Minho felt Changbin’s teeth sink into his shoulder, indicating that he was about to fill Minho up carelessly. 

  
  


Good. 

  
  


“Minho!” He moaned into Minho’s shoulder as he came, pain from his shoulder as Changbin’s teeth pulled away evidence that he’d broken skin.  _ Again.  _

  
  


Minho collapsed, Changbin still buried deep as he rode his orgasm, pressing much smaller kisses down Minho’s back as he helped lower him to the floor. 

  
  


Another cool thing about Changbin was that he actually stayed around for awhile. He didn’t just fuck and leave. He actually stayed and took care of Minho. Sometimes he’d even stay the night. 

  
  


“Shower?” Changbin whispered as he finally pulled his cock from Minho’s clenching hole, running his hands soothingly along his back. 

  
  


“Bath. I can’t stand at all,” Minho laughed before the feeling of Changbin scooping him into his arms had him bursting out into laughter amongst his pain, “you’re so domestic and cute, how are you single?”

  
  


“I don’t wanna settle,” Changbin smirked. 

  
  


Changbin was  _ so _ weird. He was so loving and sweet after sex. He always made Minho’s wellbeing a priority, and if Minho didn’t feel great after he’d always do whatever he could to help. He was just awfully kind. Minho wasn’t used to anyone ever being so considerate after using him like a doll. 

🐰

  
  


Minho curled into his bed, watching the alarm clock next to his bed. It was so late, but for some reason he couldn’t sleep. 

  
  


He’d actually been struggling to sleep for weeks. It was becoming more apparent in his shows too. The people watching noticed his mistakes in hooping and he’d gotten lazy with his makeup. He just... wasn’t doing great at all. 

  
  


But he had no idea what was wrong with him.

  
  


🐰

  
  


“Minho? When’s the last time you slept.”

  
  


Minho glanced up from his couch, eyes weary. 

  
  


Ah, Changbin was there for sex again. But Minho knew he’d dozed off mid-makeout and nearly slammed his head into the counter. 

  
  


“I don’t know what’s been going on. I just can’t seem to sleep at all.” Minho sighed, resting into his hand, “I’ll doze off and wake up thirty minutes later. I just can’t stay down.”

  
  


“Have you tried taking anything?” Changbin asked, slouching against Minho’s couch as his finger ran through orange strands at Minho’s head, “I could get you some medicine?”

  
  


“Nothing seems to work. I don’t know why I’m so restless.”

  
  


Changbin shifted in his spot, laying beside Minho closely, “maybe you’re lonely. When’s the last time you slept with someone?”

  
  


Minho arched his brow, “did you forget how often we fuck?”

  
  


“No,” Changbin laughed, watching Minho closely, “I mean genuinely. Fell asleep next to someone.”

  
  


Changbin hadn’t stayed the night in awhile. 

  
  


“Whenever you stayed last.”

  
  


“Should I stay tonight?”

  
  


Minho took a deep breath, “you can. But I don’t know if that’ll help at all... we could fuck—“

  
  


Changbin leaned in slow, taking Minho’s lips to his own unexpectedly before wrapping his arms securely around Minho’s waist, “nah, let’s just sleep.”

  
  


Minho sigh, laying his head into the crook of Changbin’s neck, “I can’t.”

  
  


Chanbin kissed him again, so softly and so slowly, “I’ll wait.”

  
  


“I’ll just wake up again.” Minho frowned, enjoying the warm sensations of Changbin’s kisses. 

  
  


“You won’t.”

  
  


Minho didn’t wake up in the middle of the night after hours of lying restlessly in his bed. Changbin seemed to actually help. His hand at his back and soft kisses seemed to help him sleep okay. 

  
  


Minho woke up in his bed, cheek pressed against his sheets as his eyes struggled to open. He glanced to his alarm clock. He slept late. Nine in the morning. He felt... relaxed. 

  
  


Minho slipped himself out of his bed, allowing himself to stretch before blinking towards the door. It was wide open. Maybe Changbin was still there. 

  
  


It was quiet. So early in the morning and so eerie. None of the lights were on, the only light shining from the blinds and mostly hidden with thick curtains. 

  
  


“Changbin, are you up?” 

  
  


Minho crossed the kitchen before stopping dead in his tracks, eyes widening at the white rabbit mask sat on top of the table. 

  
  


_ His  _ mask. 

  
  


Minho’s eyes left the mask to reach the form settled in the chair across from the bunny head. And Minho might have laughed at the black horse head if he wasn’t fucking terrified of whatever was going on. 

  
  


“What the fuck are you doing?” Minho asked as the horse head tilted to the right a bit, “Changbin?”

  
  


The horse head nodded, pointing with a gloved hand across the table to the rabbit head. 

  
  


“Where did you find that?” Minho asked cautiously. 

  
  


“ _ Put it on.”  _ Minho grimaced at the static-laced voice. 

  
  


“How did you—“

  
  


“ _ Put it on, now.”  _

  
  


Minho blinked, “excuse me?”

  
  


_ “I just wanna fuck you in it, can I? _ ” The voice was so unnerving. 

  
  


Minho took a deep breath, reaching for the rabbit mask he wore often before sliding it over his head. 

  
  


He liked wearing this mask, however it fucked up his vision pretty badly. 

  
  


“ _ Lean down. Put your stomach on the table _ .”

  
  


Minho drew a breath, “you’re really going for it, huh?”

  
  


_ “Do i _ t.”

  
  


Minho inhaled, “Changbin, what are you doing?”

  
  


“ _ Fun. Something new. I found that mask in your closet when I was looking for another shirt.” _

  
  


_ “ _ What’s with your voice?” Minho just rolled his eyes, leaning down against the table, hands supporting him as the other man rose from the chair. 

  
  


“ _ You like it?” _

  
  


“I like  _ your _ voice better.” Minho sighed as a hand reached the mask at his head, pressing his face down into the table as the man’s other hand tugged his sweatpants off harshly. 

  
  


Just like fucking Changbin to pull something so weird. 

  
  


“You into this furry shit and didn’t tell me?” Minho asked with a click as he felt something cool run along his hole, “oh you’re actually lubing me up for once? How thoughtful.”

  
  


_ “Is this good?” _

  
  


Minho took a breath. The mask would get so hot through sex, right? “Yeah, whatever you want. I actually got some sleep so whatever you did last night must have worked.”

  
  


“ _ Good.” _

  
  


Minho winced as Changbin’s cock filled him, causing Minho to take another breath. He wasn’t entirely awake, but he wouldn’t turn down Changbin’s dick at all. 

  
  


“ _ You’re really beautiful like this.”  _

  
  


“Thanks.” Minho sighed before letting out a gentle moan as Changbin rammed into him suddenly, hands pressing into his hips. 

  
  


“ _ The mask is so nice on you... why did you hide it?” _

  
  


Another few deep thrusts and Minho was drooling along the inside of the mask , the sound of creaking filling his ears. 

  
  


“ _ Minho?”  _ He got rougher, Minho’s body trembling in anticipation as Changbin rammed into him. 

  
  


“Ah _ ,  _ Changbin!”

  
  


“ _ Why did you hide it?” _

  
  


“It’s not for sex!” Minho moaned out as he clenched a fist at the table while the other desperately went for his own cock that was hardening with every motion, “it’s just a costume!”

  
  


“ _ Shame.”  _

  
  


Changbin’s one word answers were kinda getting to him, but whatever. 

  
  


“Harder...” Minho decided to whine out, mind so restless yet his body so alive with Changbin’s thrusts. 

  
  


Changbin was being as rough as usual, causing Minho to shudder and whimper out in ecstasy. It felt nice, though different. The roughness was there, maybe the care too, but  _ something _ about this felt a little off. 

  
  


But Minho couldn’t focus on that, not entirely. Because Changbin was producing these choppy moans into that ridiculous horse head that made Minho’s bones shudder. 

  
  


“Oh my god!” Minho arched his back as the horse headed man increased his pace, slamming so hard into Minho he was losing it. 

  
  


Changbin was so lucky that Minho  _ enjoyed  _ this. He craved the feeling so badly that he’d let Changbin bruise the hell out of him just to get off. He loved it. Part of him was starting to think he might love Changbin too a bit, but just a little. He was a decent fuck and he was super sweet. But Minho didn’t do relationships. He never did. 

  
  


A firm smack to his ass and Minho was seeing stars, clawing into his wooden table with his nails as Changbin plowed into him like a fucking semi, the table creaking with every thrust. 

  
  


“So—so fucking good!” Minho cried out against his own moans, body trembling as he got himself off the best he could. 

  
  


He was going to burst, hand moving along his cock lazily until he couldn’t take it anymore, white seed filling between his fingers as he worked his hand through his own orgasm. 

  
  


Minho couldn’t even breathe as Changbin brought a hand back to the costume rabbit head at Minho’s head as the other lay firm against his hip. Minho could tell by the change in pace that he’d probably cum in moments. Right inside of Minho again. He couldn’t fucking wait. 

  
  


“Fuck, Changbin!” Minho felt his face hit the table, causing him to blink in surprise at the sudden change in roughness. He was lucky the mask was there to keep him from hurting his face but Jesus Christ. He’d never had that happen before, but maybe it was an accident. And it wasn’t  _ that  _ hard anyways. Changbin was still being fair. 

  
  


Minho let it go as the man fucked him, the mask getting unbearably hot. 

  
  


“Fuck...” Minho whimpered out as Changbin held his head against the table, giving a couple more thrusts before burying himself deep. 

  
  


Minho shuddered as he felt the man’s cum run down his thigh. He pulled out fast, which was odd considering Changbin liked to bury himself for a bit. But Minho wouldn’t question it. 

  
  


“Jesus Christ, what the fuck was that?” Minho laughed as he felt the hand leave his head, allowing him to crawl up the table, legs unsteady as he forced himself upright, “where did that come from?”

  
  


Minho almost forgot about the mask. It was hard to look at without thinking it was funny, but he held in his childish humor as he inched himself up the best he could. 

  
  


He expected Changbin to say something, but he just stood there in that fucking mask. 

  
  


Minho reached up for the rabbit mask, the horse shaking his head slowly, “can I not take it off?”

  
  


The horse looked at him longer, “ _ keep it on, you’re perfect.” _

  
  


“Why?” Minho asked wordlessly as his knees buckled. 

  
  


The horse was silent. 

  
  


“Okay weirdo but I need to shower so the mask is coming off, wanna come with me?” Minho held out his hand, the horse tilting his head to the side again before straightening up to look right at Minho, “Changbin?”

  
  


Changbin grabbed Minho’s wrist, so harshly that Minho was tugging back. 

  
  


“What are these?” The horse asked, holding Minho’s wrist in grasp. 

  
  


He meant his marks? 

  
  


“Changbin, are you joking right now?” Minho felt taken aback. Changbin knew what those scars were. He knew that Minho had done it to himself. They’d discussed it before?!

  
  


“Did you do this to yourself?”

  
  


Minho winced, “Changbin, you know about that—“

  
  


Minho didn’t expect to be thrown to the floor so harshly. And it wasn’t like he could fight that either. His legs easily gave out underneath him because of how  _ rough  _ they’d been. 

  
  


“What the fuck?!” Minho growled as he went to pull himself up, only being forced back down by the man who was settled right over top of him, weight keeping Minho down, “what’s your fucking problem?!”

  
  


The horse brought a finger to his mouth as if telling Minho to keep a secret before reaching down to grab Minho’s mask, turning his face towards underneath of his table. 

  
  


_ Oh.  _

  
  


Minho opened his mouth to scream, the sight so unbearable that he wasn’t really sure  _ what  _ to do. But the horse beat him to it. The horse buried something sharp right through his mask into the side of his face. He didn’t even have  _ time _ to scream. Because seconds later and this  _ imposter's  _ blade ran right across his throat. 

  
  


Maybe he was having a nightmare. A horrific nightmare. He wasn’t looking Changbin’s corpse in the eye, throat slashed and eyes void of life. That wasn’t real. And he definitely wasn’t gurgling on his own blood through a fucking heated mask. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. 

  
  


Minho could only manage whimpers as the mask was finally torn off of his face, the horse settled right above Minho with a blade covered in blood.  _ His  _ blood. 

  
  


“N-.” Minho spat blood as he brought his hands up the best he could, the man above way stronger than he could have imagined. Not that he could fight hard as he choked on blood. 

  
  


It was useless. 

  
  


Minho kept one hand pressed firmly against his throat, ignoring the wound through his face as he brought his hand up to the horse mask. He had no idea who this was. 

  
  


If this was real, he deserved to see who had broken into his home and killed his friend  _ and him _ . Minho knew that if this was real he was as good as dead. 

  
  


Minho’s fingers ran across the extended mouth, trying to grasp against the latex to pull the mask off, but it was useless. 

  
  


He was starting to struggle with his vision as his throat poured blood around his fingers that had originally been soaked in cum, body tensing and screaming in pain. 

  
  


And he couldn’t make any real sound. 

  
  


“W-why?” Minho dropped his hand in defeat, the horse tilting its head as a cruel laugh left his lips before the knife glistened in Minho’s view. 

  
  


“You  _ were  _ perfect.”

  
  


_ Were.  _ Perfect. Minho’s brain started to work.  _ Perfect.  _ Was this the weirdo who spammed his shows? Minho figured it didn’t matter anymore. 

  
  


Minho took in the man above, the horse mask covered in a spray of blood making it look even more ridiculous than Minho could handle. The mask was so stupid. It was so fucking stupid. 

  
  


It was childish. Stupid. He was dying. He was going to die. He was choking on blood that was pouring from his throat and down his face. He couldn’t breathe and he could feel himself shutting down. 

  
  


But he just couldn’t hold back his laugh. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading sorry about Minho hahahahaha
> 
> Also: I don’t know why on earth I have to do this but please do not reupload my work under any circumstances. If you’d like to for any reason please message me first, do not reupload my work. If you see my works on wattpad please report them, I will never grant permission for wattpad.  
> [Twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/skzorcism)  
> [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/Str4y)


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